


One Voice

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Pre-White House (West Wing), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-04
Updated: 2001-03-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Where did it all start?





	One Voice

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

RATING: PG-13, powerful themes and strong language (slurs included)   
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The West Wing" or any of the related characters. I   
also don't own the song "One Voice" sung by Billy Gilman and written by "his   
people". If anyone sued me over this, they'd be wasting time and money.   
NOTES/SHOUT-OUTS: AJ asked me to write a story for this song and this was   
what I came up with. Hopefully it works. Please enjoy. Feedback is always   
welcomed and in a way, depended on for healthy self-esteem.   
SUMMARY: Where did it all start? 

Some kids have and some kids don't   
And some of us are wondering why.   
And Mom won't watch the news at night   
There's too much stuff that's making her cry. 

  


The same kid was always sitting in the same corner at lunchtime. His   
clothes were kind of raggedy and his book bag had quite a few holes in it. He   
was always reading books, worn out library books that struck no one else as   
important. He had thin glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose, which   
in accompaniment with his scrawny figure did well to make him look rather   
geeky. He got straight A's and when the teacher asked for volunteers, he was   
always raising his hand. But he did not stand out in a crowd. Instead, he   
chose the background.   
When he was a junior, he made it on to the baseball team and that did   
a lot to get people to notice him. Because he was scrawny, he was also   
limber, and was the best shortstop Olympic High had ever had. He got a   
girlfriend, even though he was still something of a geek and he refused to   
experiement in the drugs that "everyone" was trying. He wrote papers and he   
participated in debate class with a fire that no one else could compete with.   
Then in the middle of his senior year, his father died. That's when   
Samuel Norman Seaborn suddenly withdrew. His mother grew worried about him,   
but his grades were not faltering and he'd already gotten into Princeton on   
scholarship. Sam still wrote excellent papers and he still debated with that   
same fire; however there was something missing from the sparkle in his eyes.   
His relationship with his girlfriend ended and he went away to college.   
One day, Sam turned on the TV and saw more blood and anger. He   
switched it off again and sat down. He murmured softly to himself, his hands   
clasped together between his knees.   
"God, just let me help." He whispered. "Let me make a difference in   
all this." 

  


We need some help   
Down here on earth   
A thousand prayers, a million words   
But one voice was heard. 

  


Josh threw his backpack on the ground and moved towards the kitchen.   
He was hungry and it was time for some chow. He hoped that his father would   
come home soon from the office. He was leaving on a business trip later that   
night and Josh wanted to get in some extra hours of talking with him. At age   
fifteen, Josh had found a particular interest in talking to his father about   
world events and politics, things that fascinated his intellect. He had   
turned down an invitation to go to the movies with his best friend Ira after   
school, just so he could spend those few hours with his father. He moved into   
the kitchen and headed for the fridge. He noticed that his mother was on the   
phone, looking upset.   
"What's going on?" He asked as he pulled a bag of carrot sticks out of   
the fridge. His mother hung up the phone   
"Josh, honey. I think you should sit down." The woman said softly.   
Josh frowned.   
"Is it dad? What happened?" He asked as he moved towards her.   
"Honey, Ira was shot." She told him quietly as she put a hand on his   
shoulder. Josh blinked and shook his head.   
"No, that can't be. I just saw him an hour ago." He replied weakly.   
Ruth Lyman blinked back tears and squeezed her son's shoulder.   
"Josh, I'm sorry." She whispered. Josh shook his head as the tears   
started to fall. "No, it can't be. He was going to the movies." Ruth took   
Josh into her arms and hugged him tightly. Noah Lyman moved in through the   
back door and saw his son crying into his wife.   
Later that night, Josh stared up at the ceiling, his eyes still wet.   
All he could think about was that if he had gone with Ira to the movies,   
those guys would not have beaten him up and shot him. They wouldn't have   
called him a kike and they wouldn't have shot him between the eyes simply   
because he was Jewish. Josh closed his eyes and tried to remember why it was   
that he and his family clung to a religion that chastized them in the eyes of   
bigots.   
"I'm gonna stop that." He whispered. "God, we're not letting this   
happen." He declared softly before making the promise to himself that his   
want to change the world was now going to become a reality. He was going to   
change the world. He was going to make it better for all the people in it. 

  


A house, a yard, a neighborhood   
Where you can ride your new bike to school.   
A perfect world where mom and dad   
Still believe the golden rule 

  


The young girl watched as her classmates ran out of the building. Her   
best friend walked up to her and took her hand, leading her towards their   
group of friends. She laughed and went willingly. It was okay to be popular.   
She loved being popular. She glanced behind her and saw the loner in the   
corner, watching them all run and play in the afternoon sun. CJ paused and   
then turned back, offering her hand and friendship to the strange young girl.   
The loner smiled and joined them enthusiastically.   
The small group of adolescents played soccer in the sun, laughing and   
enjoying the time they spent together. When the day was over, CJ took her new   
friend home and they had dinner with CJ's parents and brother. It was two   
years later that CJ's friend confessed that on the day that CJ had offered   
her hand, the loner was on her way home to kill herself. CJ had changed all   
that with her kindness. With a smile, CJ simply said "Do the same for someone   
else someday."   
Upon hearing her friend's story, CJ decided that this was what she   
wanted to do with her life. She wanted to help people find a reason to live   
and a world that was worth living in. She sat down on her bed and silently   
prayed for the ability to do so. She needed to do so. 

  


Life's not that simple   
Down here on earth.   
A thousand prayers, a million words   
But one voice was heard. 

  


The whine of the helicopters overhead was deafening. The young man   
wiped his brow and looked around, biting his lip to contain his fear and   
blinked through the sweat. Soldiers all around him were going down in the   
crossfire. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was a pilot, not infantry, and   
yet here he was. He clutched his gun close to his chest and began to pray   
softly as he gazed out into the jungle. There had to be something better than   
this.   
"Please, God, don't let me die here." He whispered. "I just want to go   
home to my wife and daughter, please." He took a deep breath and left the   
cover of the trees, running low to the ground towards another large tree. The   
gunfire was also deafening, ringing in his ears as a constant din, reminding   
him of the pain that surrounded him. He reached his destination and crouched   
low to the ground, his eyes shut tightly as his lips moved slowly.   
"Let me make it out of here. Let me get out of here so I can make sure   
that nothing like this ever happens again." He murmured to himself. Another   
explosion shook him from behind and the screams came again. "Just let me make   
sure this never happens again." He asked before he turned again and fired. 

  


One voice, one simple word   
Hearts know what to say.   
One dream can change the world   
Keep believing till you find your way. 

  


The bell rang, dismissing the many students from the first half of   
their long day at school. A young boy, age nine, trekked out into the   
playground and looked around nervously. It had become a daily routine, and   
everyday it was the same. Nothing ever changed about it.   
He saw the other boys, the bigger boys walking towards him. He looked   
around for help but all he saw was the faces of students who could care less   
what happened to him. A few of them pointed at him, some of them laughing and   
some of them murmuring to themselves. What would it take for one of them to   
just stand up and save him? He knew that all he had to do to save himself was   
to start saying the damn prayer, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't give in to   
that. He wouldn't deny who he was just to save himself a bloody nose.   
"Hey, kike." The largest boy growled as he planted himself in front of   
Toby's small frame. Toby glared up at the bully.   
"Hey, stupid." He retorted. The boy frowned and punched Toby in the   
nose. The smaller boy fell immediately to the ground with a grunt and opened   
in his eyes just in time to feel the other boy's foot impact his stomach. The   
beating went on for another minute before a teacher came out and pulled the   
bully away. Toby tasted the blood in his mouth and slowly pulled himself to   
his feet, to the amazement of all those watching. He glanced around, refusing   
to cry from the pain and then felt a teacher's hand guide him to the office.   
As he sat waiting for his father to come pick him up, Toby stared at   
his hands, hands that had never thrown a punch. He whispered to himself over   
and over that one day, he'd be able to fight back, and he'd be able to do it   
without resorting to blows. He would be able to speak out against violence   
and injustice and bigotry. One day, he'd be able to make a difference. 

  


Yesterday while walking home   
I saw some kid on Newbury Road   
He pulled a pistol from his bag   
And tossed it in the river below. 

  


The eleven-year-old boy stood against the tree, staring out into   
space. Somewhere in the background, he could still hear his mother crying   
softly. He heard his little sister repeatedly asking what was wrong, her   
voice ringing with the innocence that he wanted so desperately to have again.   
He turned and walked down the street, not wanting to hear his mother explain   
what it meant for his father to say that he was long gone. He didn't want to   
have to look into Deena's eyes and explain that their father was never coming   
back.   
As he walked, Charlie thought about all the things that surrounded him   
in this place called the world. His school was getting rougher and rougher   
all the time. His father had now left. His mother was on night-duty more and   
more often these days, which meant that now he had to take care of Deena.   
Things were so crazy and out of sync. It was like he didn't have any control,   
and not only that, he never would.   
Suddenly, Charlie saw one of his classmates from school standing on   
the edge of the river. It was one of the bullies that constantly teased him   
about being a smartass, one of the guys that scared him the most. As Charlie   
watched from afar, the boy opened his backpack, pulled out a small gun and   
stared at it. Charlie watched in anticipation, afraid that the boy was about   
to shoot himself, but then watched as the gun went flying into the icy river.   
The boy watched the gun fly, standing still for another few moments before   
zipping up his bag and walking on. Charlie walked forward and looked at the   
river to where the gun had landed. There was no sign of it. It had been   
washed away.   
And suddenly, Charlie knew what control really was. And he knew what   
the rest of his life was going to be like. Where there was no control, there   
would at least be compromise. He was going to make sure of that. 

  


Thanks for the help   
Down here on Earth.   
A thousand prayers, a million words   
One voice was heard.   
One voice was heard. 

  


The President of the United States looked around the room at the small   
arrangement of people that were before him. They argued and laughed and   
joined each other in the reality of the world with tough smiles on their   
faces. They had all been through so much, and that much had gotten them this   
far. He was proud of each and every one of them.   
There was a certain resilency in the way they survived. Sam, Josh, CJ,   
Toby, Leo... Charlie too. They had all come through so much and they'd   
come through with the need to help people, to change the world. That was   
their legacy. That's what got them elected to this White House. It was the   
need to make the world a better place, so that no more people had to suffer.   
They brought to the White House a single voice, and that voice was going to   
be heard.

THE END... .

~ D.C.   
Batman

  


End file.
